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   Chapter 2 Two

A Drink with the Devil By Aubrey Wolfe Characters: 10884

Updated: 2019-04-27 00:23

I wake up and feel the hangover hit my head before I even open my eyes. I reach my hand up to grab my head, but my arm is constricted. I blink my eyes against the harsh morning light and feel something warm and squishy, slightly hairy and super soft on top of my arm and around my waist.

Once my eyes adjust to the light, I turn in my bed and see someone lying next to me.

I start to panic.

This isn't my room. Where the hell am I? Who the hell is this?

I try and calm myself down as I wiggle my arm free from the strange man and peek below the covers. I panic even more when I see we're both completely nude, but that panic quickly fades when I get a glimpse at how fit the guy is, and give myself a small pat on the back for at least hooking up with a good pick.

I don't remember anything from last night, other than dancing like a goof on the dancefloor with Natasha, then going to the bar to get more drinks. After that, everything is black. I look around the room and spot my clothes scattered around the floor, making it even harder to pick up and rush out.

I take the chance to peek over and get a look at the guy I slept with, so I at least know what he looks like to describe to Natasha. When I tell her about this, she is going to want details. I feel a ball of excitement build in my chest as I peer over and look at the peaceful face of–

Oh, my god. Greyson Mathers?!

I stare directly into the face of my Harvard crush. The man I had longed after the entire four years I spent there studying Art. I had one lecture with him, and the moment I saw him and looked into his gorgeous green eyes, I nearly died. Natasha had teased me constantly every time we spotted him on campus.

Whenever I saw him, I turned to jell-o right where I stood. I couldn't speak, couldn't walk.

And here I am, laying naked in what I can now assume is his bed. If someone told me that the day after graduation, I would be hooking up with Greyson Mathers, I would admit them into a mental hospital, because they're down right crazy. He never paid me or any girl in school any interest, never gave anyone the time of day, and turned down every invitation. No girl could figure out why, we all assumed he has a girlfriend somewhere else, at a different school or in a different city.

Now, I really hope those rumors aren't true, or I just made a huge mistake.

Regardless, I already made a huge mistake. Most people didn't know, but those who still read the newspaper, online or on paper, know exactly who the Mathers family is. They own quite a few successful businesses throughout the state of New York, but those are all cover-ups for their real business.

The American Mafia.

Patrick Mathers is a mafia boss, and he has two sons; Darius and Greyson Mathers. Darius is said to be Patrick's second in command, making him almost as equally a powerful and dangerous man, and the next in line to take over for Patrick, if and when he passes down the torch, or dies.

I can only assume what that makes Greyson.

I need to get out of here.

Not hesitating any longer, I fly out of bed as quietly as possible and try to gather my scattered clothes around the room. I managed to find my underwear, dress and one shoe, but can't seem to locate my last shoe and last piece of clothing. I look under the bed, grabbing the edge to stable myself, and hear Greyson stir above me. I instantly tense and look to make sure he is still asleep.

Once he stops moving, I say screw the shoe and rush out of the room, making sure I at least have my phone and wallet. I throw my clothes on as I run down the abandoned halls, praying that no one comes running around the corner as I'm still partially nude, and try to find my way to the front.

I don't even remember how I got to this house, let alone how I managed to get through the winding, narrow halls. Just as I'm convinced I'm lost, a tall elderly man walks out of a random door down the hall a little and notices me standing there, disheveled hair and bare foot, probably looking lost and scared in the middle of the empty hall.

He frowns and walks towards me, a smile quickly appearing when he seems to make out my face.

"Good morning, Miss. Is there something I can help you with?" he asks, his tone cheerful.

"Uh, I'm actually just trying to find the front door…" I realize how stupid that sounds once it's out of my mouth, but the man continues to beam at me.

"Leaving so soon? Is Master Greyson awake as well?" Master Greyson? What year are we in? Did I go back in time?

"No, he isn't, but we should maybe keep it that way. You can just point me towards the front door and I'll just slip out, " I say and try to smile convincingly. The man frowns again, but turns and starts to walk down the hall. I have no other option but to follow him, and hope he is leading me towards the front door, and not just walking away from me.

After a few more twisting hallways, we're in front of a staircase that leads down to the front foyer. I cheer silently when I see the front door, and turn to thank the man, but stop when I see he is putting on a coat and grabbing a set of car keys by the front.

"I will drive you home, I know Master Greyson will be pleased to know you made it there safe, " he says.

"Oh, that isn't necessary, I can just call a cab or something."

He waves his hand before I can finish arguing. "Nonsense, it's my job, " he says and

smiles, before walking out the door, leaving no room for argument. I awkwardly follow behind him towards a car already parked and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He holds the back door open for me with a kind smile, melting my nerves a little.

I give him my address and he seems to know exactly where to go from there. Something tells me he has been driving around Manhattan for quite some time. When we venture further into New Jersey, he starts to get a little confused.

Relief washes over me when the familiar apartment building comes into view. Frank pulls up to the curb and turns to me with a smile on his face.

"Here we are Miss. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"N-no, that's fine, you've already done enough. Thank you again, " I say and bow my head, before scurrying out the door. He gives me a small wave before he pulls away from the curb and disappears. I rush inside, knowing Natasha is waiting for me with a string of questions.

I tried to turn my phone on, but it's apparently dead. I know there is probably a thousand messages and voicemails left by her, when she finally sobered up and realized that I didn't come home with her last night.

As expected, as soon as I open the door, she is there waiting for me, her eyes narrowed and hands on her hips.

"Where the hell have you been, and why is your phone off? I have been calling you all morning, praying you weren't dead in some dumpster, " she cries, flailing her arms about.

"I'm sorry, it was a crazy night, I barely remember any of it. My phone is also dead, and I didn't have a charger, " I say and trudge past her to my bedroom. I hear her following behind me, and can feel her piercing eyes examining me.

"You look like you got laid, " she says suddenly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I say, rolling my eyes and turning my face so my hair covers my blushing face.

"I'm just being honest, you look like you have been thoroughly fucked. Am I wrong?" she asks and crosses her arm, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, you aren't wrong. But that isn't even the worst part."

"Wait, worst part? Was he terrible in bed?" she asks and runs over to sit on my bed, waiting to hear all the juicy details. "Where are your shoes, by the way?" she adds, pointing to my slightly dirty bare feet.

"It's a long story, " I say.

"We have all day, neither of us works today, remember?" she says and winks, urging me to continue. She obviously remembers just as little as I do, so I start from the last place I remember; going to the bar.

I tell her about the strange man who bought me a drink, and it starts to jog her memory.

"He was really good looking, from what I remember seeing, " she says.

"You don't even know the half of it, " I mutter, earning a confused and slightly greedy look from her.

"What's the big reveal" she says and leans closer.

I take a deep breath, making her wait even longer for shits and giggles.

"The guy at the bar was Greyson Mathers, from Harvard."

Natasha gasps and leans back, covering her mouth slightly. It seems like it takes a moment for her to completely process everything.

"You honestly mean, the guy whose father is a mafia boss? Are you freaking kidding me? Girl, you hit the jackpot!"

I look at her incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

She rolls her eyes. "Are you serious? His father is a mafia boss, that means the guy is probably loaded, you won't ever have to worry about money troubles again. Isn't that what your main goal is?" she says and gives me a meaningful look.

She has a point.

My main goal, even after school, was to get a good paying, stable job, so I can help give my mother the best healthcare there is to offer.

Just over 5 years ago, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She had been a heavy smoker before, but has obviously since quit. The medical bills and medicine fees are more than she and I can both handle. We have to keep going to run down walk-in clinics, hoping to have enough in our pockets to get what she needs to go another few months without pain.

But since I was in school for the last four years, something she pushed me to do because it was what I always wanted, and what she always wanted for me. But I know during that time, it put a big hole in her bank account, more than she leads me to believe.

Natasha and I moved in together, because my mother was moved into a care home, for those who are sick and can't afford to live on their own. We can't even afford to live in a two-bedroom apartment anymore. I offered to buy a pull-out couch and sleep in the living room and she take the one bedroom, but she kept refusing, and offered to stay in the care home for a modest price.

Even I can see, however, that she is miserable there. She doesn't have the freedom of living on her own. She has to have a nurse bring her outside, even when she is capable of doing it herself. She needs to be supervised at all times, which in her state is understandable, but when it was her and I together, she had a lot more freedom than she does.

Natasha drops the conversation to let me shower and dress into clean clothes. I can't seem to get Greyson off my mind, though. Once I'm done and join Natasha in the living room, she suggests we watch a chick flick on Netflix to take my mind off the night, but even Mean Girls don't distract me enough.

I fall asleep dreaming of stunning green eyes.

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